Mama Rides Shotgun (17 page)

Marty crouched at the
entrance to the tent, nerves showing as she shone and re-shone the flashlight into the corners. Maddie and I had already laid the sleeping bags outside, turning them inside out.

“See, Marty?’’ I said. “No snakes.’’

She peered inside a bag. “I know I’m being a scaredy cat,’’ she said. “I’m sorry.’’

“Don’t you apologize, Marty. The one who should be sorry is the one who stuffed that rattlesnake in Mace’s jacket.’’ Maddie gave her own bag a good shake. “And he—or she—will be sorry once we find out who it was.’’

“My money’s on Austin,’’ I said, tossing my bag onto the tent’s canvas floor. “I know she snapped that whip at Val on purpose. She’s also the best candidate for shredding my tent.’’

Marty followed my bag inside, the flashlight’s beam strafing any possible hiding place. “Jealousy is a good motive, Mace. But what about her snake phobia?’’

“Oh please, Marty! You are so gullible. Can’t you just see Austin pitching a fit at that reptile house so that big, strong Trey would take her in his arms to comfort her?’’ Stretching my legs half out the zippered door, I pulled off my heavy boots. “Austin’s exactly the type of woman who would pull that damsel-in-distress crap.’’

“We all know
you’re
not that type, Mace.’’ Maddie put a toothbrush and a bottle of water on top of her sleeping bag. “Would it kill you to pretend, just a little, that you could use some help from Carlos? Men like to be needed, you know. And you about bit off his head when Shotgun threw Mama.’’

I made a face, but I wasn’t sure she could see me in the lantern light.

“I’m rolling my eyes at you, Maddie,’’ I said. “By the way, how come you never simper around, all helpless, with men?’’

“I don’t need to, Mace. I already have a husband.’’

“It must be this relic of a tent,’’ I said. “I think somebody just opened a time warp into 1950.’’

“Could you two please stop bickering?’’ Marty put a hand on each of our arms. “You’re making my head hurt.’’

Maddie and I were quiet for a few moments, like two kids reprimanded by their favorite teacher. I tugged off my jeans, leaving on my socks and long undies to sleep in. Maddie went outside to brush her teeth. Marty wrapped a woolen scarf around her neck, tucking the ends into the collar of a long-sleeved thermal T-shirt.

“Hand me one of those flashlights, would you, Mace?’’ Maddie leaned in. “I need to use the little girl’s room before bed.’’

I handed over a light, along with a wad of toilet paper. “Oh for God’s sake, Maddie. You don’t need to walk all the way to creation and back to find the portable potties. Just use that clump of brush out there by the horse trailer.’’

“I will not!’’ She summoned her most dignified tone. “Principals do not squat in the bushes, Mace. Suppose a student spotted me? They’d snap a picture on their cell phone and it’d be all over YouTube by first period tomorrow: Me, doing my business. It’d be tough after that to exert my authority.’’

As Maddie stalked off into the darkness, Marty and I snuggled into our sleeping bags. It made me think of when we were kids, sharing a room with twin beds. Maddie, of course, had claimed her own room.

“I’ve been thinking about all the things that have happened, Mace. If Austin is responsible, like you say, then how does that tie in with your notion about Lawton being murdered?’’

It was too dark to see the confusion on Marty’s face. But I knew it was there. I was equally as confused.

“I haven’t put all the pieces together yet, Marty. Maybe Austin’s not just jealous about Trey and me. Maybe she had something to do with Lawton’s death, and she doesn’t want me around to find out what it was.’’

I heard Marty’s soft breathing as she pondered that possibility.

“Then how do those bees figure in, Mace? And Johnny Adams? And Wynonna and Trey?’’ Her voice had an uncharacteristic note of skepticism. “And what if Lawton’s death was just a heart attack? What if everything is completely unrelated?’’

Marty’s question hung in the air. The horses noisily munched hay outside in their temporary paddock. Bullfrogs croaked from a far pond. Night creatures scrabbled in dry brush.

“I don’t know, Marty,’’ I finally answered her. “I was a lot more willing before last summer to believe in unrelated coincidences. Don’t you remember all the things Jim Albert’s killer did to scare us off the trail?’’

“I do. I also remember the nasty notes and threats, and you haven’t gotten any of those on this ride. Why do you think that is, Mace?’’

Truthfully, I didn’t know what to think. Maybe I was over-reacting.

“I mean . . .’’ Marty breathed deeply, then continued, “Shotgun running away with Mama might have been an accident, and maybe Johnny really did burn his hand. And maybe Austin didn’t mean to hit Val. And Trey and Wynonna both deny there’s something between them; maybe they’re not lying. And suppose some teenager thought it’d be funny to rip apart your sleeping bag and soak it with red wine . . .’’

“Okay, enough! Now you’re giving
me
a headache.’’

She patted my cheek. She was wearing mittens.

“Sorry, Mace. I guess we only know a couple of things for sure: Lawton Bramble is dead . . .’’

I interrupted, “And what they find in that chili cup will tell us something about how he died.’’

“It will,’’ Marty agreed. “We also know that rattlesnake was planted in your jacket. All we have to do is find out who did it and why.’’

Marty made it sound simple. But I remembered the case from last summer. Nothing was simple about last summer.

___

I awoke with a start. I was sure it was Maddie, snoring. But when I listened, all I heard in the tent was the sound of my two sisters breathing. Marty’s breath was a gentle sigh. Maddie’s was raspy, but not loud enough to wake me from a deep sleep.

I sat up, shook the fuzz from my brain, and grabbed my watch from the toe of my boot. The luminescent dial read one-thirty. A horse whinnied. Palmetto fronds rustled in a slight breeze. And there was that sound again: A woman, sobbing.

A man spoke over the sobs. His words were hushed, indecipherable. But the masculine timbre of his voice and the angry tone were clear. He said something, and then the woman’s sobs intensified—a sad, strangled sound.

Grabbing the lantern from the corner of the tent where I’d left it, I turned it on. The light was dim, the batteries weak. Swinging the lamp inside the tent, I felt on the floor for my coat. I picked up Marty’s first, which would never fit. I found Maddie’s next, which would have to do.

The sobbing outside abruptly stopped. I wondered if, seeing my light, the man had clamped his hand over the woman’s mouth.

I hurried into my boots, leaving the laces undone.

“Maddie!’’ I shook her shoulder. “I heard something. Someone’s in trouble.’’

“Huh?’’ She covered her head with her pillow. “Go away, Mace.’’

I didn’t want to waste time rousing her. I crawled out the door of the tent, and started in the direction of the sobs. But the woods were quiet now. I stopped, straining to listen. I thought I heard brush moving in the distance, but it might have been the wind.

Suddenly, I whirled around at a familiar sound. An off-key whistler was approaching our tent, coming from the opposite direction from where I’d heard the sobs.

“Doc!’’ I hissed. “What are you doing out here?’’

“Who’s there?’’ He shined a flashlight in my direction.

“It’s Mace, Doc. I heard a woman crying, somewhere out there.’’ I pointed my lamp into the distance. “Did you hear anything?’’

“Not a peep.’’ He shook his head. “But I was coming the other way, from over by the campfire.’’ He turned and aimed his light behind him.

Together, we headed into the woods to look. We made big circles with our lights, but saw nothing. Whoever had been there was gone now. No voices broke the stillness; no sobs in the night.

“I wonder who it was?’’

Doc shrugged. “Probably some couple, having a lovers’ quarrel. Everybody’s acting peculiar on this trip. People at the campfire tonight were trading all sorts of stories. Somebody asked me about that chili cup, Mace. You should have never told people about your suspicions.’’

I picked a leaf from a hickory tree and started to shred it. “I didn’t, Doc. But you know how people are: Somebody overhears something, and the next thing you know it’s all over camp. Then you’ve got a crowd of people seeing clues everywhere, like they’re extras on
CSI: The Cracker Trail
.’’

Doc huffed, “Well, I don’t like it. All this speculation isn’t helping Lawton’s family one bit. And they need all the help they can get.’’

He crossed his arms and stared. I wasn’t going to defend myself, since I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was thinking of what to say next when Doc saved me the trouble.

“Did that policeman friend of yours get somebody to take the cup?’’

I nodded, and pulled another leaf off the tree. “All of this might be moot if the state lab doesn’t find anything. But a lot of strange things have been happening, and they all seem to start with Lawton’s death. I think it’d be foolish of us not to wonder why.’’

I looked up into the black sky, just in time to spot a shooting star. My wish was for a safe ride the rest of the way to Fort Pierce. And, I wished for things to start making sense. That last part I felt I had a little bit of control over.

“Why’d you leave the campfire, Doc?’’ I asked.

“I got sick of hearing people run their mouths. It was awful smoky, too.’’ He breathed deeply. “Thought I’d take a little walk and get some fresh air into my lungs before I turn in.’’

He shone his light on his wristwatch. “It’ll be time for breakfast before we know it. I just want to enjoy the night air and these beautiful stars for a little bit longer.’’

He accompanied me back to the tent, where we said our goodbyes.

As he left, murdering “Whistle While You Work,” I got into the tent. It wasn’t until later, as I was drifting off, that I wondered: Why would a man who claimed to detest the woods be out having a walk, enjoying all of nature’s glories?

My sisters and I
spotted Audrey sneaking a smoke behind the food trailer. It was breakfast time. But another foggy morning would delay our grub, and the ride. We decided to corner her in the meantime, to see what we could find out about her boss, Johnny.

“Mornin’,’’ I said, as the three of us approached off Audrey’s right flank.

She jumped, hiding the hand with the cigarette behind her back. “You scared the crap out of me! If Johnny sees me smoking, he’ll kill me. I told him I quit two weeks ago.’’ She smiled guiltily, took a last drag, and carefully extinguished the half-smoked butt on the trailer’s metal hitch. Then she straightened the remainder and slipped it into a pocket of her server’s apron.

“For later?’’ Marty asked.

Audrey nodded, mischief lighting her eyes.

“You really should quit, you know. Smoking is a filthy habit,’’ Maddie said.

I ground my elbow into my sister’s side. “Don’t we all have habits we wish we didn’t have?’’ I smiled at Audrey. “All of us except Maddie, that is.’’

Marty got to the point before Maddie could insult Audrey again. “We were wondering, how’s Johnny’s hand? That looked like a pretty bad burn. Were you there when he did it?’’

“Occupational hazard.’’ Audrey shrugged. “It’s not the first time he burned himself on something hot. Won’t be the last.’’

“So you saw him do it?’’ I asked.

“No, but I’ve seen it before. He cusses like a drunken cowboy and blames everyone in sight. I’m glad I wasn’t around this time to catch the flak.’’

“What’s the story with you two?’’ Maddie asked.

Audrey raised her eyebrows. Marty pinched Maddie’s other side.

“I think what Maddie means is that you seem to have such an easy, joking way with Johnny.’’ My smile was warm. “You two must have worked together for a long time.’’

Audrey beamed, her feelings for her boss shining in her eyes. “It’ll be twenty years this June. I just planned to work at the restaurant the summer after high school. But Johnny needed me, so I stayed on. And on, and on.’’

What was the best way to phrase my next question? I wished I’d rehearsed with Marty.

“So you started working for Johnny right around the time Barbara Bramble died.’’ I decided on the open-ended approach. “I know he was awfully close to her.’’

Pain flickered briefly across Audrey’s face. “It about killed Johnny when Barb died.’’

“So tragic, too. An accident like that,’’ Maddie said, finally climbing down off her high horse.

Audrey’s face hardened. “An
accident
, yes. That’s what everybody said.’’ She took the cigarette from her apron and re-lit it.

Please don’t say anything mean about smoking, I sent a silent plea to Maddie.

Marty jumped in, “You sound like you don’t believe what everybody says.’’

Audrey took a big drag and then lifted her face to exhale, aiming the smoke to the sky. Maddie coughed and waved her arm. I gave her a warning glance.

Audrey examined the glowing tip of her cigarette. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead.’’

“Lawton or Barbara?’’ I asked.

She was silent, staring at the ground.

“Audrey?’’ Marty prodded, a gentle hand on her wrist.

“Honey, neither one of them is around to protest,’’ Maddie whispered, “and you can talk to us in confidence. I’m a school principal. That’s almost like being a priest.’’

Giving a short nod, Audrey started to speak. “I guess it depends on what you think is a worse sin: committing suicide, or pushing someone to it.’’

I tried to mask my shock. So did Maddie. But Marty’s face was troubled.

“Johnny told me Lawton was just awful to Barb. He cheated. He cut her down. He may have even hit her a time or two. She was miserable in that marriage. She’d get drunk, call Johnny on the phone, and cry. Toward the end, Lawton had just about forgotten those two little kids.’’

Audrey tapped the cigarette ash, watching it fall. How hard things at home must have been for Trey and Belle.

“When Lawton went on that business trip to Tallahassee, he didn’t even bother hiding the fact he was taking his girlfriend. Just about shoved it in Barb’s face, Johnny said. That was when Barb had ‘the accident,’ as everyone calls it. But Johnny never believed it. Neither did her sister. Barb had told both of them many times how she hated her life, hated what she’d become. She told them she was going to end the misery for herself and everyone else.’’

She took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a cloud.

“That night, she finally did. She threw herself down those steps on purpose. And Lawton, may he burn in hell, pushed her to it.’’

Audrey dropped her cigarette and ground it into the dirt with her boot.

“Johnny’s hated Lawton ever since. And he’s hated himself, too. He’s always felt like he should have won Barb back. If he had, she’d still be alive.’’

“And Johnny would be happily married,’’ Maddie pointed out helpfully.

“Yes.’’ Audrey nodded. “I guess he would.’’

“What I can’t figure out,’’ I said, “is if Johnny disliked Lawton so much, why’d he go into business with him?’’

“I think Johnny loved his restaurant more than he hated Lawton. He was about to lose it. He needed to pay off his loan. And Lawton had more money than God. Johnny should have known better, of course. You lie down with dogs, you’re gonna get fleas. Financially, Lawton took advantage of him. Just like he had when he stole Barb.’’

My sisters and I were quiet, mulling over what Audrey said. We could hear voices from the food line, growing impatient. Somebody cracked a whip to pass the time. Audrey stooped to pick up her cigarette butt, and then froze at a bellow from the other side of the trailer.

“Audrey! Where you at, woman? These people are going to start eatin’ the plastic plates if we don’t get this food out soon.’’

Her smile was apologetic. “Looks like I’m being paged.’’

I thought of one last thing we needed to know: “Hey, thanks for lunch yesterday, Audrey. Those sausage sandwiches were great,’’ I said. “But I never saw Johnny. Did you put on the whole spread yourself?’’

“Hell, no. Johnny calls himself the Sausage Sultan. He’d never trust me to grill. He did disappear for a while, though. I remember, because that fellow with diabetes needed his artificial sugar to make sweet tea. We couldn’t find the packages, and we couldn’t find Johnny. Poor guy had to drink his iced tea unsweetened.’’

“Audrey!’’ Johnny yelled again. “I better not find you sucking on a cancer stick!’’

She took a breath mint from her apron and popped it in her mouth.

“I’m coming, you old crab!’’ she shouted. “Besides, the way these folks have been shovelin’ it in, it won’t hurt ’em a bit to wait.’’